


As the Crow Flies

by SuperUnexpectedGirl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Antivan Crows, Crows, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I'll think of some others at some point, Modern Era, Not Canon Compliant, Possible smut, Romance, Smut, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperUnexpectedGirl/pseuds/SuperUnexpectedGirl
Summary: AKA The Queasy Crow Flies at Midnight. Zevran Arainai is an assassin that is sick and tired of killing. Unable to move past the betrayal and death of someone close to him, he accepts one last contract in an effort to end both the life of his targets and his own misery. As always things don't go exactly to plan and he ends up being roped into saving the world. Of course, it helps that he's doing it with a woman he finds quite attractive, even if she doesn't appear to like him very much. But she'll come around, won't she? Set in a modern world AU.Spies, Crows, love and betrayal, but with guns and hacking.Rated Mature for possible future chapters. I'm not sure yet.Disclaimer: I don't own the Dragon Age universe or characters obvs...
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Cousland, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Poison

**Author's Note:**

> I've been replaying Origins and I saw a piece of fan art with Zevran as a modern assassin. I really loved that so kind of went off on a tangent there. 
> 
> Still updating my other Dragon Age fics (Unwritten and Triangle), I've just been struggling with a bit of writer's block so this is hopefully a mechanism to get the story going on the others again too :)
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism always welcome.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is how it starts... Assassinations and new assignments.

Zevran shifted his weight ever so slightly, easing out of the warm bed and the limbs draped over him, a millimeter at a time. The woman sighed and stirred in her sleep, but did not wake. The elf froze, but when she remained asleep he began to slowly inch his way out of the bed once more. Finally extricating himself, he stepped softly, retrieving his clothing from where it was scattered about the room. 

He dressed quietly, keeping an eye on the woman sleeping - the young, trophy wife of a wealthy, much older businessman. He had been working on seducing her for weeks, in an attempt to glean some information about the movements and whereabouts of her husband, and finally she had succumbed. After a bottle of wine and some aggressive flirting on his part, she had fallen into his arms, enthusiastically if he might say so himself. He always enjoyed these parts of his assignments - they were a welcome distraction from the task at hand - and this woman had certainly given him a great deal of pleasure. 

Her husband was due back from a business trip this evening however, and Zevran intended to be ready for him. As was usual with the Crows, he wasn’t entirely sure who had put the hit out on the man, only that it was his job to make sure it was successful. 

With a last glance at the sleeping woman, he slipped out the window, shimmying onto the windowsill and pulling himself up to the roof. It was more difficult to be quiet when walking over the roof tiles, but the chances of being caught in the house were higher. The man had surveillance cameras everywhere and getting into the system and disabling it meant he couldn’t make it look like an accident, which was key here. 

He stepped quietly over the roof, his shoes specially designed to grip any surface. Crouching, he made his way to a vantage point where he could see everyone coming and going, but could duck out of sight easily. Not that anyone was likely to look up at night and spot him, but better safe than sorry. Quietly, he readied his weapons. Because this needed to look like the man had died of a heart attack or similar, it had been assigned to Zevran. He was many things, but a poisons expert was most definitely one of them, and the one he’d chosen for this target was fast acting, metabolised within an hour, and left no trace. Quite simply, it caused the heart to stop beating within minutes of it entering the system. 

Zevran removed a series of small metal tubes from pouches sewn into his jacket. Individually they looked harmless enough, but they were designed to form a powerful projectile weapon with, depending on the skill of the assassin, accuracy up to six metres. Zevran was in fact, a very skilled assassin. 

With everything assembled, he shifted so he was lying flat on the roof, everything laid out before him. He would need to make a very quick exit once it was confirmed the man was dead and he scoped out all possible escape routes while he lay in wait. 

After about an hour, the assassin saw headlights turning into the long driveway and he readied his tools in anticipation. Stopping a few metres from the front door, within easy range for Zevran, with the engine running, the driver got out of the car and walked around to the back, opening the door for the occupant within. He then moved to the rear of the car and removed a bag from the trunk. The target got out of the car, nodded at the driver and turned to collect his bag as the chauffeur got back into the driver’s seat. Seeing his opportunity, Zevran fired a single dart at the man’s neck. The man jerked, slapping his neck at the sharp pain and looked around him, searching for an insect as the source of the sting. It was a common reaction and one which made this method that much more untraceable. Zevran readied another shot just in case, but he knew the dart had hit it’s mark, it was likely unnecessary. The man was of average build so unlikely his body weight would counteract the dosage. 

The car pulled out of the driveway and the man turned to enter the house. As he reached for his keys he staggered ever so slightly and the assassin smiled to himself in the dark, confident his target would collapse within a couple of minutes of walking through the door. The door closed behind him and Zevran stayed where he was, waiting and listening. About a minute later a loud crash sounded as the man grabbed on to whatever was at hand as he fell. Lights began to go on in the house. Zevran took that as his cue and he quickly packed up his weapons - he’d disassemble them when he was a safe distance away. As he dropped down from the roof onto the ground and slipped over the wall, taking care to stay in the blind spots between cameras, he heard a woman’s scream. The wife had clearly been awoken by the commotion and come downstairs to discover her husband’s body. 

Glancing around the empty street, he sauntered away, hands in his pockets, taking care to appear as if he was just out for a casual stroll, perhaps on his way home. The wail of sirens in the distance cut through the air when he was about five minutes away and shortly afterwards an ambulance came tearing past him. 

Zevran knew they were too late and he felt a sense of satisfaction in his chest at a job well done. 

_________________

The assassin pulled out his keys, hidden in yet another secret pocket of his jacket and entered his ground floor apartment. He put the key in the lock, and it beeped, prompting him to step close to the door and look into a small glass window, which looked like a door peep hole. The iris scanner positively identified him and the door beeped again as the lock disengaged. Zevran entered his apartment, hanging his keys on a hook by the door. It swung shut behind him, the lock re-engaging. 

Zevran made his way into the kitchen, pulling his weapon out of his jacket as he hung it over the chair. He filled and then set the kettle to boil and while he was waiting, he sat down at the kitchen counter and proceeded to unscrew all the tubes that compiled the weapon, carefully cleaning them with a small kit he’d removed from the overhead cupboard. Once everything was clean he packed it all away and made himself a cup of tea. Only as he cupped his hands around the warmth of the mug did he allow himself to relax. Pulling his phone out of his pocket as he took a sip, he logged into a secure app and notified the Crows that the job was done. A moment later a notification beeped on his phone, confirmation that Bitcoin had been transferred into a secure account in his name.

Satisfied that the job was complete, he picked up his mug of tea and moved from the kitchen into the living room, taking a seat on the couch as he switched on the television. He tended to avoid the news channels after completing a job, especially high profile ones such as this. Instead he switched it to an entertainment channel. A popular sitcom was playing and he vaguely thought he’d seen this episode. 

A loud beep sounded and he sat up, his head snapping to the side to look at one of his CCTV monitors. Someone was approaching his door. He grunted in displeasure when he recognised his visitor. Taliesen. 

Ever since Rinna’s death, Zevran had distanced himself from his partner as much as possible, preferring instead to take solo jobs. He couldn’t bring himself to work with Taliesen anymore, the reminder of Rinna was just too raw. Also, simply put, he didn’t trust him any longer. 

That said, Taliesen wouldn’t have just turned up at Zevran’s apartment unannounced for no reason, so he must know Zevran was home. Indeed, he now stood waiting patiently at the door, not even knocking, waiting to be admitted. 

Zevran sighed and swore under his breath. Getting up he walked to the door, disengaging the lock. He opened it to see Tali with a smirk on his face. “Took you long enough,” the man said. 

“I was busy. What do you want?”

“Now Zev, that’s a fairly aggressive attitude you have there. We’re friends aren’t we?” 

Zevran clenched his jaw. “Indeed we are. Now what do you want Tali? I’m tired and I would like to go to sleep.”

“I have a job for you,” Taliesen said. “Can I come in? It’s best not to talk of these things in public.”

Hesitating for just a moment, Zevran stepped back to admit the assassin. Tali knew his way around the house and made a beeline for the living room, collapsing on the couch and sighing loudly. 

Zevran seated himself in a chair opposite, still clutching his half finished cup of tea. He waited. 

“Not going to offer me a drink?” 

“You know where everything is, help yourself,” the elf said, waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen. 

Tali made no move to get up. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re to go to Fereldan,” he said matter of factly. “Some military general wants you to finish off what’s left of the Fereldan Grey Wardens after the whole debacle at Ostagar. There are only two of them, it shouldn’t prove problematic.”

“Grey Wardens?” asked Zev, startled. “They’re an elite military unit. Why would we be getting rid of them?” 

“We’re not paid to ask questions,” Taliesen snapped. “We’re paid to do what we’re told. _You’re_ paid to do what you’re told.” 

Zevran frowned. “This is true, but it seems… odd to me,” he said. Shaking his head he added, “but as you say, we’re not paid to ask questions. What information do you have?” 

“You’re to meet with the General - Mac Tir I think his name is - and he’ll give you the targets’ current whereabouts. You’ll find him in Denerim.” He reached into his jacket and handed Zevan an envelope. “Your travel itinerary and details of how to make contact are all in there,” he said. 

Zev nodded and took the envelope, but didn’t open it, placing it on the coffee table. “Loghain Mac Tir,” he murmured to himself. The military general was known to those who paid attention, even in Antiva. “Now that is interesting…”

“What?” snapped his partner. Zevran’s whole attitude was starting to make him anxious. He was usually very lighthearted, with a dark sense of humour and this suspicious, serious elf in front of him was not what he had expected. Taliesen knew things were strained between them after he’d killed Rinna, but Zev of all people should have understood it was nothing personal. 

“Nothing,” replied the elf. “Thank you. Anything else I need to know?”

“Your flight leaves tomorrow morning,” he said. “Fereldan is colder than Antiva, so pack something warm. As far as I’m aware there is no particular need to make this look accidental, as long as it looks like they were ambushed or something along those lines. Kill them, return here, move on to the next job.” 

Zevran nodded. “Understood.” 

Taliesen stood up and Zevran opened the door to let him out - the entire visit had been no more than five minutes. As he exited the apartment he added, “And Zev? Don’t fuck this up. We’re getting paid a lot for this job.”

Zev said nothing, merely watched as Tali climbed into a waiting car and left without so much as a goodbye or a backward glance. 

The elf closed the door. He drained the remains of his tea and walked through to the kitchen, carefully washing and drying the mug, then placing it back in the cupboard. 

Making his way back into the living room, he seated himself on the couch and picked up the envelope. Ripping it open he removed the sheaf of papers and rifled through them. His travel itinerary under an alias. A picture of a man named Rendon Howe and how to make contact. A list of contacts for weapons as he wouldn’t be allowed to travel internationally with any. Accommodation bookings, and names within the Fereldan branch of the Crows to assist him if necessary. 

Zevran sighed heavily and leaned back on the couch, the papers falling from his fingers. This would be his last mission. He had been going through the motions but the truth of it was that he simply didn’t care any more. He was a good assassin, an excellent one in fact, but he could no longer push the betrayal of Rinna from his mind, and he simply couldn’t carry on doing this. While he took pride and satisfaction in his work, he was tired of all the death. He had been sold to the Crows when he was just seven years old and now, in his twenties he felt as if he had been killing for an eternity. It was exhausting. 

The problem of course, was that you didn’t just leave the Crows. It was a lifetime commitment, and if your life ended up being a bit shorter as a result, well, you accepted that when you joined - willingly or not. 

He closed his eyes. He would go to Fereldan. He would make contact with the Crows and meet with Loghain Mac Tir, and he would perhaps be a bit sloppier than usual when attempting to kill off a pair of elite, military personnel. And maybe, just maybe, they would put him out of his misery.


	2. Soren Tabris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran meets with Arl Howe.

Zevran stepped off the plane, a small backpack over his shoulder containing his passport and paperwork and made his way through the throng of people arriving at Denerim International Airport. He joined the queue, pulling out his passport - not in his real name of course - and waited patiently as it inched forward. Luckily there weren’t too many flights arriving this early and it went quickly. 

He stepped up to the counter, presenting the bored looking dwarf with his documents. The dwarf barely even looked at him as he picked up Zevran’s passport, scanned it and then glanced between the elf and his photo. 

“Soren Tabris,” he said. 

Zevran smiled politely. 

“What is the purpose of your visit?” the dwarf asked. 

“I am visiting friends in Denerim,” he replied, the lie rolling smoothly off his tongue. 

“How long are you staying?” he asked, not really interested in the answer. Zevran didn’t need a visa to travel or work in Fereldan, so it wasn’t really important, but he was required to ask anyway.

“Two weeks.”

The passport was stamped and the dwarf slid it back over the counter towards him. He waved his hand vaguely indicating Zevran should move on. “Next!”

The elf made his way to baggage claim. His bag appeared on the carousel as he walked towards it, so collection was quick. Guards with mabari patrolled the terminal, which always made Zevran slightly nervous. Although he had nothing incriminating on him - Crows always had safe houses where they could collect weapons and tools - the dogs were far too intelligent for his liking. No one stopped him however and he walked unhindered out of the sliding doors, ignoring the porters trying to catch his attention, and made his way outside to the taxis. 

At this early hour, he was at the head of the queue and stepped immediately into a cab, manned by a middle-aged, surly looking elf with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Where to?” 

“The Gnawed Noble,” Zevran responded, indicating one of the oldest hotel taverns in the old market district of Denerim. His accomodation was actually a Crow owned bed and breakfast a few doors down, but misdirection was the best way to remain unnoticed when travelling. 

They rode in silence, with some awful, in Zev’s opinion, traditional Dalish music blaring through the tinny speakers. He had never been to Denerim strangely enough and he passed the time by staring out the window at the city. Denerim was large and dirty, it’s buildings squat and unattractive, and Zev much preferred Antiva although he wondered if it was merely familiarity. And the climate of course. Taliesen wasn’t lying when he said it was colder in Fereldan. He shivered and pulled a hoodie out of his bag. 

Twenty minutes later the driver pulled up outside The Gnawed Noble, dumped Zevran’s bag unceremoniously on the sidewalk and once he was paid, got back into his cab and took off without another word. 

Zev pretended to fiddle on his phone and get his bags in order while he waited for the cab to turn the corner. Once it was out of sight he walked the two extra doors down the street, turning into a nondescript doorway. Walking in he saw a dark-haired woman, a human, standing behind the reception desk. 

“Good morning sir, how may I help you?” she asked pleasantly. 

“I have a reservation,” he replied, placing his bag on the floor and pulling out his passport and wallet. “Soren Tabris.”

“Certainly sir,” she replied politely, taking his passport. “Let me just check…” she fiddled on her computer, then turned to him and said, “Are you in town for business or pleasure?” 

“I’m visiting the grave of my mother,” Zev replied, trying to suppress his laughter. He knew why they had to have these code phrases, but it always amused him no end.

“My condolences for your loss,” she replied with no hint that she felt any sympathy for his non-existent mother. She turned to a box and pulled out a key card. “Room 5. Breakfast is served between seven and nine. Enjoy your stay sir,” she said brightly. 

Zev nodded and made his way down the hall to room 5. He inserted the key card and the door swung open to reveal a plain, but serviceable room. The Crows certainly didn’t keep their employees in luxury, but the room was comfortable and clean which he supposed was all he could ask. 

He had an appointment with a high ranking military figure - Rendon Howe - in a couple of hours, before he was due to meet General Mac Tir. Enough time for him to shower and change before presenting himself to the military headquarters in Denerim. Technically it was the royal palace, but as the last remaining member of the Fereldan royal family had been killed during a tactical mission fighting the darkspawn, or if the rumours were to be believed, betrayed by the Grey Wardens, it had become the base for all transitional government operations at this time. The queen was still in residence, but until the line of succession was decided everything was at a standstill. 

Zevran didn’t quite understand how Fereldan’s monarchy worked and it seemed a very complicated system to him. Everyone knew the royal family in Antiva were figureheads only. In reality the country was run by those with the most wealth and political power. Sure, it was corrupt, but somehow it worked if you knew how to navigate the system. 

He was going to the royal palace so it wouldn’t be fitting to arrive in sneakers and jeans, so he showered and changed into clothes that to him said, ‘I take your request seriously, but don’t think you can push me around.’ Dressed in a dark suit and white shirt, unbuttoned with no tie, he pulled his hair back into a ponytail. There was no way he could disguise his facial tattoos, but with all the Dalish elves that now lived in Denerim, most humans wouldn’t be able to distinguish between Dalish tattoos and the ones that marked Zevran’s face. 

Satisfied that he looked presentable, he slipped his key card and identification into his pocket, including a token that he knew his client would be expecting to receive. It was a short walk to the palace, and he arrived in plenty of time. Walking up to the gate, he approached the palace guard. 

“Can I help you elf?” the guard sneered at him. Clearly attitudes to elves had not improved much in Fereldan Zevran thought to himself. 

“Arl Howe is expecting me,” he said calmly. 

“Is he now?” the guard said. “Yeah I think not. You can shove off.”

“That would be a very bad idea,” Zevran responded, not moving. “I suggest you go call someone who likes their job more than you do, to let me in.” He waved his hand at the man. “Go on, I’ll wait.” 

The guard hesitated. Clearly this elf was far more confident in his right to be at the palace, but he didn’t want to look like he didn’t have any authority however, so he merely sneered at him. “Wait here.” He turned and walked inside the guard house and picked up the phone.

Zevran, standing with hands in pockets, heard the man mumbling into the phone. The guard put his hand over the receiver and leaned out. “You’re supposed to show me something,” he said, his tone surly. 

The elf grinned and pulled a small gold coin with a crow on it out of his pocket. He held it up to the guard who glanced at it and muttered back into the phone, “A coin sir. With some sort of bird on it.” He glanced nervously at Zevran, whose grin widened at the man’s discomfort. “I don’t know sir, a raven maybe? Alright, right away sir.” 

He hung up the phone and turned to the assassin. “Go on then. Walk straight till you get to the gate. Someone will meet you there.” He stepped back to allow the elf to pass, his body language indicating he was put out at having to allow him access. 

Zevran nodded as he stepped past, a smirk on his face. He walked unhurriedly, taking in the opulence of the palace grounds as he went. It might be a military headquarters now, but that was definitely recent - it really was quite lovely. He arrived at the gate to find a stern looking man waiting for him. Zevran flashed the token at him. 

“You took your time,” he grumbled. 

“My apologies,” Zevran replied, “I was admiring the scenery as I walked and I thought it would take some time for someone to meet me.”

“I rather thought you would attempt to sneak in undetected,” the man said, a frown on his face. 

“Would you have preferred that?” the assassin responded. “It would have exposed not only the holes in your security - I’ve noticed at least three by the way - but also denied me the opportunity to walk in these delightful gardens.” Zevran chuckled in amusement. “I take it you’re Arl Howe,” he said, inclining his head. 

“I am,” the man replied, still frowning. “And when you say holes in our security…” he shook his head. “Nevermind, I’ll be sure to re-evaluate the patrols.” 

Zevran shrugged as the man opened the gate for him. “Any Crow worth his salt would be able to evade them anyway, we pride ourselves on this,” he replied. 

Arl Howe just grunted in response and led the way through a side door and a series of narrow passages into a large, sparsely furnished room. Clearly they didn’t want people to notice him being escorted in. He briefly wondered what would happen to the guard at the gate, then put it out of his mind - it was no use dwelling on that. 

Howe gestured to a chair as he seated himself at the table. Zevran took a seat and waited. The Arl studied him, clearly trying to evaluate him, but the elf remained silent. 

“You’re not what I expected,” the man said. 

“No?” Zev said. “And what exactly did you expect?” He grinned. “A mysterious, cloaked figure perhaps, who materialised out of thin air when you least expected it? Or perhaps a master of disguise who would reveal himself at an opportune moment?” The elf chuckled. “We are all of those things, it’s true, but there are many ways to misdirect attention and remain anonymous that do not involve such… uh, blatant and ostentatious displays.”   
Howe grunted in response. He had been expecting exactly what the elf had described, but he would never admit that. The handsome, lithe elf sitting in front of him, dressed so fashionably was not what he had expected of an assassin. He looked more like a playboy than a hired killer. 

“Have you received any information as to why we contracted the Crows?” he asked. 

“A little, but I would prefer to hear it straight from the source,” Zev replied. “Documents are so…” he waved his hand in the air, “impersonal.” 

“There are two Grey Wardens, traitors and murderers, who were among those who betrayed King Cailan at Ostagar. They must be eliminated.” 

Zevran nodded thoughtfully. “And, out of curiosity, why hire a Crow for this? Surely you can simply put out a warrant for their arrest? Or a bounty? There must be plenty who would turn them in.” 

Howe frowned and opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by a voice from the door behind them. 

“Because as you must know, the Grey Wardens are highly skilled soldiers. There are very few who can match them in combat.”

Zevran turned to see a dark haired, craggy looking man stalk into the room. He was dressed in full military regalia, his medals flashing as he approached them. 

“General,” said Howe, getting to his feet hurriedly. 

Zevran rose, but as was his usual attitude, didn’t show deference to this man. He personally was not a fan of the military, or any authority really, but he was polite and inclined his head in greeting. 

“And you think a Crow will match them in combat?” he asked. 

“Perhaps not open combat, but certainly you have more chance through stealth or deception than most others,” the general replied curtly.

Howe removed an envelope from his jacket and handed it to Zevran. “These are the targets,” he said. 

Zev opened the envelope and scanned the pages. “Wardens Alistair and Bella.” He frowned. “A woman?” he asked, looking up. 

“The Grey Wardens are an elite group. Regardless of gender they are formidable warriors,” Howe replied. “Do not think this will be an easy assignment. They will put up a fight.”

Zevran grinned. “Oh, I’m counting on it,” he replied.


	3. Thugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran goes in search of a crew to help him with the Wardens.

Leaving the palace, Zevran made his way back to his hotel to change into something more casual, then took a walk through the streets of Denerim, preferring to walk to clear his head instead of catching a cab. Pulling out his phone, he used his GPS to guide him to where he needed to be.

He had the name of a contact in one of the warehouse districts who may be able to assist him, and combined with the information he’d received from Howe and Loghain on the whereabouts of the Wardens, he was fairly confident he could find them and at the very least execute his own death, if not theirs at the same time. 

Although he might have looked distracted as he walked through the streets, he was, as always, incredibly aware of his surroundings, and it wasn’t long before he heard a set, no two sets, of footsteps shadowing him. Outwardly he ignored them, but he monitored how quickly they approached. He ducked into a run-down back street and as he neared the end of it, just before moving back into the main throughway, he heard them quicken, obviously trying to catch him before there were too many people around. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my friend,” he said, stopping and turning around. 

Two men, both human, dirty looking, stood behind him with hands in their pockets. Zevran had no doubt by the way their pockets bulged, that they were holding guns. 

“Shut up knife ear,” the one on the left snarled. “Give us your phone and your wallet, or you won’t be walking away from here alive.”

Zevran chuckled, causing the men to cast uncertain glances at each other. “Oh, I rather think it is you who will not be walking away from here,” he replied. “I’ll give you one chance. Leave, and I’ll let you keep your life.”

The man grunted and pulled his gun from his pocket and pointed it at the elf. “You’re bluffing,” he said. His companion glanced at him nervously. “Give us your stuff now!”

Quicker than either of them could have anticipated, a throwing knife flew from Zevran’s hand, embedding itself in the wrist of his assailant. The man howled in pain, dropping his gun as his friend staggered back in shock, trying to pull his own gun from his pocket and in his fear, getting it tangled in the cloth. 

“I’m going to warn you one last time, friend. Walk away,” the elf said.

The uninjured man grabbed his friend, still clutching his bleeding wrist, and pulled him along behind him, leaving the gun lying discarded on the ground. They staggered out of the alley without so much as a backward glance. 

Zevran regarded the gun. Crouching down and reaching into the pocket of his hoodie, he slipped on a pair of Dalish leather gloves. He engaged the safety on the gun and, standing up, walked over to a nearby dumpster and chucked it inside. 

He could have killed both men easily, but they were not his targets, merely stupid thugs who thought they could bully an elf because he appeared smaller than them. He may have been wanting to end his life, but there was no honour in dying at the hands of two backstreet criminals. He also didn’t wish for anyone innocent to be hurt by the gun lying in the street, so disposing of it seemed the best option. 

Glancing around at the now empty alley, he removed his gloves and continued on his way. It wasn’t far now to his destination and he began to pay greater attention to the landmarks, and the people, around him. Spotting the doorway he was looking for, the faded sign marked it as Denerim Hardware, he checked for cars and then crossed the road, hands in pockets and entered the shop, a tinny sounding bell marking his entrance. 

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw a human woman standing behind the counter. She eyed him warily, and with good reason - he was clearly out of place here. Even though his clothes and demeanour didn’t set him apart, there were very few elves in this part of the city. For an elf to willingly venture anywhere here meant he was either stupid or looking for trouble. 

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice hard. Her hand slipped under the counter to the weapon the assassin knew was concealed there.

Zev approached, noticing as he did a few figures lurking from the shadows. 

“I hope so,” he said. “I’m in search of some nesting boxes for a rookery.” 

Zev noticed her muscles relax as she released the weapon underneath the counter. 

“I have stock in the back,” she replied. Her eyes flicked ever so slightly to the side and the figures faded back into the background. 

“Excellent, I’ll take a look.” 

She came out from behind the counter, made her way to the door and locked it, turning the sign around so it said ‘closed’. “Follow me,” she said curtly. 

The elf followed her through a door behind the counter, so be greeted by a large thug who barred his way. 

“The token,” the woman said. 

“In my pocket,” Zevran replied, his hands still in full view. “It’s in a compartment in my wallet.”

The woman nodded at the guard, who reached into Zevran’s pockets and pulled out his phone, and his wallet. Rifling through his wallet, he discovered the token in a small, unobtrusive compartment. Checking it, he nodded to the woman, returned Zevran’s belongings and stepped back. 

They moved deeper into the back rooms, which were deceptively larger than they appeared from outside, and she led him to a room with a table and a couple of chairs. A notepad and pen lay on the corner of the table. She sat, indicating he should do the same. 

“I’m Raina,” she said. “Now tell me, Soren Tabris, why is an Antivan Crow, an elf no less, wandering around the seedier parts of Denerim?”

He grinned. “It’s Arainai actually.” The woman’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. House Arainai was one of the oldest and most well-known houses in the Crows. If the handsome elf in front of her was a part of that house, he was very skilled indeed. 

“I’m looking for some assistance,” he said. “In setting up an ambush.” 

She studied him. “An ambush,” she repeated. “And who are we ambushing exactly?”

“Well, that is my business for the time being,” he smirked, “but I know they are currently on the road between Lothering and Redcliffe. I have no doubt they will have reached Redcliffe by the time I get there, but my aim is to be able to catch them en route to their next destination.” 

He shrugged. “I have access to traffic cams and surveillance footage, so I can monitor their movements within a certain radius. Now I just need to know what it’s going to cost me.”

Raina reached out for the notepad, wrote a number on it and slid it towards him. Zevran glanced down. 

“I’ll add 25% on completion for your complete silence and your best team,” he replied. “There can be no leaks to warn them.” 

“50%,” she countered.

“35.” 

Raina smirked. “Deal,” she said. “Now, do you have a plan or do we need to come up with something?”

“I have a plan,” he replied. “I just need the manpower, or womanpower as the case may be,” he said gesturing towards her, “to execute it.” 

“Well that’s a pity,” she said, her eyes raking over him. “I was rather hoping to be stuck in a room with you for a few more hours…” 

_____________

A few hours later Zevran left Denerim Hardware. He had a plan, he had a team, and after a few glasses of wine with Raina, he now also had a raging hard on. The woman was a tease, who had rubbed herself against him, touched him, but then left him wanting. Not that he wanted anything more than a quick fuck, but still, he was turned on and uncomfortable. 

Instead of walking back to his hotel in this state, he walked about a block away from the shop and then hailed a cab. It was about a ten minute drive, during which time he managed to distract himself enough to return to a more acceptable state. 

Arriving at the hotel, he nodded at the woman at the desk and proceeded to closet himself in his room. Pulling out his laptop, already set up with multiple tools to conceal his identity, he logged all the information he needed to track the Wardens based on what he’d received from Howe. Facial recognition, access to surveillance systems, traffic cams. The Crows had a very vast network that enabled them to locate almost anyone, unless they likewise could circumvent those systems. Zevran knew he would be fairly difficult to track for example. Yes, facial recognition might be able to pick him out of a crowd, but they would have trouble gaining access to any of his true details. The name Zevran Arainai was not one that would be heard on many lips. He used his real name on occasion, but mainly because people often assumed it was an alias. It made them doubt his real identity. 

In truth, Arainai wasn’t even his real surname - he didn’t know what that was - it was the name of the House that had bought him when he was seven. It was a mark of who he belonged to, not where he was from. 

He began monitoring his systems to see if he could track the Wardens and see where they were located. His latest information had them headed from Lothering to Redcliffe, but if he intercepted them on the road as they left Redcliffe... well it should be simple enough to provoke a confrontation. He could have done this alone of course. A poison dart, a knife in the dark - but the Wardens were notoriously skilled warriors and the chance of being detected and things going wrong were high. At least this way they might overwhelm them by sheer numbers. 

Raina indicated she already had a team in mind and she’d be in touch with him as soon as they were all assembled, which should be the day after tomorrow at the latest. Zevran was anxious to get on the road soon - he wanted this whole affair over and done with. He was ready, he decided. What was that old adage? “Live fast, die young”? Yes, he could live with that. His mind wandered as he thought about Rinna. 

The three of them - Rinna, Zevran and Taliesen - had made an unstoppable team in the field and an equally great team in the bedroom, or so he had thought. When Tali had convinced Zev that Rinna had betrayed them he had felt shocked, and unanticipated hurt at her betrayal - how could she do this to him? To them? To discover that she was the one who had been betrayed, and he did nothing to stop Tali killing her - well, he may be an assassin, but Zev’s conscience was eating at him. He regretted very little in his life, preferring to live in the moment, but this? He would never forgive himself. 

Zevran pulled his hair out of it’s ponytail, feeling the gold strands fall down into his face and across his neck. He liked his long hair but it needed a trim. He supposed if he didn’t get that done tomorrow it wouldn’t happen. And could he be bothered to spend the money on it before dying? Oh well, he thought to himself, running his hand over his face, maybe he’d get it cut in the morning and at least he would die with beautiful hair. Zev grinned humorlessly to himself, the glow of his computer screen lighting up his face eerily. 

Pulling himself out of the dark and slippery slope down which he was headed, he tried once more to focus on his work. If he collated as much information as possible, it would be infinitely easier to brief everyone all in one go. He worked late into the night, stopping only when he had as much information as possible on both Wardens, their movements, their history. He had contingency plans in place, although certainly if he didn’t make it through their first encounter, Raina’s team either wouldn’t make it or likely wouldn’t take it upon themselves to continue unless Taliesen agreed to pay them. It wasn’t like they had an obligation or were bound by honour - they were mercenaries, plain and simple. 

Eventually he turned in, sleeping fitfully and dreaming of Rinna. 

___________

Zev’s phone beeped. 9am and he was paying the hairdresser a block from his hotel, a pretty elf who flirted and made eyes at him and complimented him on his hair. Glancing down he saw Raina’s name pop up. 

Raina:  
We’re ready. 

He tapped out a quick response.  
Meet u at the store. 1 hr. Can leave from there.

He put his phone away, confident the message was encrypted and would be wiped within 5 minutes of her reading it, and smiled at the hairdresser as he left. If he’d had more time he might have indulged, but there was no time. He felt only mild regret. Packing his things he checked out of the hotel, a day earlier than anticipated, and flagged down a cab. He arrived at Denerim Hardware ten minutes early.

Walking through the door he nodded to Raina, who was standing behind the counter. She locked the door behind him and led him into the back where the group assembled turned to stare at him. Zevran was well built and athletic, but he had the small stature of the Dalish elves and most of the group were a good head taller than him. He could see many of them give him the once over in disbelief. This small, good-looking elf was an assassin? 

He nodded at them as he entered. Raina said nothing but took a seat, waiting for him to speak. Clearly she had given them a basic brief beforehand, but it was up to him to provide the details. The group consisted of two city elves, snipers of some sort by their look, and some large, burly types - the men and women both - who clearly knew their way around guns and perhaps a crowbar or baseball bat. He spotted an attractive human woman sitting in the corner. She didn’t look like she could handle a weapon, which means she must be the magic user of the group.

Zeroing in on her he asked, “What’s your speciality?” 

She glanced at the others, then raised an eyebrow at him. “Fire,” she replied. He nodded. 

“Snipers?” he asked. The two he had spotted when he walked in raised their hands. 

“The rest of you?”

“Former military,” a large man at the front, with a scar down his face said. “Handgun, shotgun. Give a large, heavy piece of something and I’ll whack someone with it.” 

A couple of nods indicated the same. 

A deep voice belonging to a dwarf at the back that Zevran had almost missed said, “Saboteur. Bombs. Traps. Can blow up or incapacitate as you need.” 

Zevran nodded again. “Our targets should be leaving Redcliffe in the next day or so. Depending on how quickly we can get there we should be able to intercept them between Redcliffe and their next destination which I suspect will be Lake Calenhad. Although we are being paid to get rid of the two Wardens, my sources indicate they may have others travelling with them, but it’s unclear how many. Currently the reports vary between one and four additional people, at least one of them a magic user.”

He began to pace as he outlined his plan. The magic user, Marlene, would act as if her car had broken down and flag down the Wardens’ car, a dark blue SUV. From what he could deduce of the Wardens, they seemed a helpful lot so it was unlikely they wouldn’t stop, but the car would stop in the middle of the road so there was no way they could drive past easily. If they didn’t stop, the snipers would take out their tires and force them to. It would mean they wouldn’t be taken off guard as easily, but it would mean they wouldn’t need to set up another ambush. 

“Wardens…” the dwarf mumbled. “This isn’t going to be as easy as you make it sound.”

Zevran grinned. “I never said it would be easy. In fact I have a number of contingency plans but I will only share those if necessary. What’s wrong? You don’t like a challenge?” he asked the dwarf, his voice holding an edge. He didn’t need a weak link in this team. If the dwarf wanted out he must leave now. 

The dwarf grunted. “I like a challenge just fine, I’m just saying is all…” he mumbled. 

“Is it going to be a problem?” the elf asked and the room went very silent. 

The dwarf swallowed. “No. No problem.”

“Excellent!” said Zevran, clapping his hands sharply, causing a number of the party to jump at the noise. This elf had appeared quite harmless when they first met him, but clearly he had a dangerous side. It unsettled them. 

“Well then,” said Zevran. “There’s no time like the present. Time to move out.”


	4. Outbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran and the team head to Redcliffe to track down the Wardens and ambush them.

Zevran’s information was good. He kept a constant watch on his laptop as they drove towards Redcliffe, about five hours away, and all signs indicated that his plan was sound. The Wardens were still in Redcliffe, but he doubted they would be for much longer. He needed to catch up to them as soon as he could. 

He sat in the second row of the van they were using so he could keep his equipment around him without distracting the driver, one of the snipers. Raina sat with him and two of what he thought of as “the thugs”, sat in the back while another van followed them with the rest of the crew. They’d hire a car for Marlene when they got to Redcliffe. 

Zev’s eyes burned from staring at the screen without blinking. He closed them and rested his head against the seat, breathing deeply to calm himself as he let his mind wander momentarily to how Taliesen would react to the news of his death. He wondered if he would be upset, if he would remember what they once had, or if he would just forget him and move on. Zev wasn’t sure which he would have preferred. 

A telltale, if subtle, shifting of the seat next to him. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” he said softly, his lilting Antivan accent making even the threat sound sexy. 

Raina froze. She had clearly underestimated the elf. She knew he was an Arainai, but his reflexes were almost unnatural. “I just…” she stammered and he shook his head ever so slightly, his eyes still closed. 

“Don’t touch my computer.”

Raina sat back, her cheeks burning. It had been a long time since she had been caught trying to steal information and she considered at this moment that perhaps she hadn’t charged enough for this job. 

Zevran, or Soren as she thought of him, remained in the same position, breathing deeply, his eyes closed. 

Raina remained tense and wary. The Crow was obviously hiding something and although it was predictable for an assassin, she felt uncomfortable around him. She wanted to fuck him and slit his throat all at the same time. He was paying her rather a large sum of money however, so she kept her mouth shut. 

A few hours later they stopped in Redcliffe to hire a car for Marlene as well as to gather any information about the Wardens that had just left the city. It seemed much quieter and more subdued than he had expected. There were few people on the streets and most of the shops were shuttered. 

“The streets seem quiet,” he commented to the car hire rep, handing over a credit card in the name of Soren Tabris. 

The man swallowed anxiously. “Yes, well there was an outbreak not so long ago,” he commented as he filled in the paperwork. 

“An outbreak?” Zevran commented cautiously. “What kind of outbreak?”

“Oh, nothing contagious, don’t you worry,” the man laughed nervously. “Contamination of some water up at the castle, they said so everyone was advised to stay inside until it was sorted out. Lord Eamon was very ill, but everyone is recovered now.” He paused and added, “Well, those that didn’t die I mean…”

“People died?” the elf asked, frowning. 

“Yes, Eamon’s wife, Isolde,” he nodded, still filling in paperwork. “Some Grey Wardens found the source of the contamination and managed to fix it, but not before Isolde succumbed.” 

“Grey Wardens?” Zev asked innocently. “I thought they were all killed at Ostagar...”

The man’s hand hesitated very briefly as he finished up the paperwork, avoiding eye contact with Zevran. 

“Oh uh, yes, well maybe they weren’t Grey Wardens, that was just what I heard…” he stammered.

Zev smiled and leaned in to the man, his voice low, “It’s fine, I’m not a Loghain supporter, I won’t say a word…” 

The man sagged a little in relief at Zevran’s lie, but clearly wanted him to leave as soon as possible. He handed him the keys. “There you go Mr Tabris. It’s a red Toyota Yaris.”

Zevran stood, glancing at the number plate on the tag before placing the keys in his pocket. “Thank you. I’ll have it back to you in a couple of days,” he said. Picking up his bag, he made his way out of the dealership, glancing at the lot to spot the car. Nodding to Marlene, the two of them made their way to the Yaris, pulling out of the parking lot five minutes later followed by the two vans. 

With Marlene driving, Zevran checked his surveillance once more, and determined that the Wardens had about an hour’s headstart on them, although it seemed as if their destination might be Orzammar and not as he had first expected, Lake Calenhad. It seemed an odd choice to Zevran, but he wasn’t being paid to think about those things right now, he was being paid to eliminate them. “Faster,” he said. 

Marlene pressed the accelerator and Zevran kept an eye out as they made their way towards Orzammar. 

After about forty minutes they saw a dark blue SUV ahead of them on the road. Zevran pondered again how stupid it was of them not to change their car, surely they must know that people were after them. Then again, types like that usually thought if they were in the right, people would just side with them and let them go. He shook his head. So naive. 

“Pass them and then stop when we’re about ten minutes ahead,” he instructed Marlene. “We won’t have much time.” 

As they passed the Wardens’ car, Zevran glanced surreptitiously out of the window. The man, Alistair was driving, with the woman next to him in the front passenger seat. In the back, although he couldn’t see them very well through the tinted windows, were two other women. One looked old, and the other a young red-head. 

He texted Raina. 4 passengers. 2 Wardens, 2 unknown women in back. 

“Pull over here,” he told Marlene as they approached a bend in the road a few kilometres after they passed their target. Luckily, there were a fair number of trees and shrubs on the side of the road. It was a deserted stretch of highway - not many people journeyed to Orzammar unless it was for business. Even these days the dwarves were just too strange in his opinion - all caught up in their obsession with falling into the sky. The vans carrying the rest of the team drove past them, stopping out of sight around the bend to hide their vehicles. 

They got out of the car, Zevran taking up a position on the side of the road, out of sight. He removed his gun from the holster on his leg and pulled a silencer out of his jacket pocket. He wondered how quickly it would take for them to kill him. When you weren’t focused on surviving there was no point in thinking of an escape route and how you would take cover when they started firing - it was only the element of surprise at the beginning that he cared about. He wondered how many members of Raina’s team would die and it struck him that he hadn’t bothered to learn most of their names.

It took only minutes for the team to reach their positions, the two snipers taking up elevated positions a bit further away, and the rest of them hiding in the vegetation on the side of the road. Zevran crouched behind the car, keeping an eye on the road. Marlene opened the hood of the car and took up a position in front of it, looking suitably helpless. 

They didn’t have long to wait. Within five minutes the SUV appeared on the horizon. Marlene looked around at the sound of the car although of course she knew it was coming, acting relieved. She waved at the car, running a few metres forward in apparent desperation and for a second Zev thought they would ignore her and drive past, but then they slowed and pulled over to the side of the road. The female Warden, Bella, got out of the car first, with Alistair hopping out of the drivers side a moment later. He wondered if the others would remain in the car.

“Oh thank goodness!” Marlene exclaimed. “My car broke down and I have no idea what to do - I think the engine is overheating! Can you help?”

Alistair glanced at Bella, who was, by her demeanour, the leader of the group, and shrugged. She nodded and smiled at Marlene, turning and gesturing to the others in the car. A moment later the car doors opened and the other women got out. 

As they all walked towards Marlene’s car, her eyes flicked to Zevran and she smiled coldly. When they were a few metres away, he stood, revealing himself. Bella hesitated and stopped, her hand moving to her weapon. The redhead's eyes flicked to the side, looking for the ambush she now knew was imminent. Zevran gestured, a single hand movement but one the rest of the team were looking for. 

As they all revealed themselves, Zevran pulled out his pistol. “The Wardens die here!” he shouted, taking a shot at Bella’s shoulder, with the intent to injure her rather than kill. How would he die if he killed his targets immediately? The rest of them leapt into action. The old woman was clearly a mage, as a shield immediately enveloped the group. The snipers’ bullets hit the shield and fell harmlessly to the ground, and moments later there were bullets flying, the Wardens and their group taking cover behind their SUV. 

Marlene, as the fire mage and one of the biggest threats, was one of the first taken out by the Wardens, her body crumpling to the ground as a bullet hit her in the neck. 

Zevran didn’t bother with cover, he walked calmly towards the Wardens, his gun raised, forcing their leader back into cover as he fired at her every time she poked her head out. As he got closer, his anger rising at the fact that not even a stray bullet had hit him, the woman rolled out from cover, rising to one knee as she took aim. His eyes widened a moment before the bullet hit him in the shoulder of his gun arm, the force of it carrying the slight elf backwards, spinning him around. 

The sound of gunfire in his ears, Zevran felt pain blossom in his shoulder and warmth begin seeping into his clothes. Darkness began to eat at the edges of his vision and as he began to lose consciousness, he tried to think of the reasons he’d wanted to die, and found he couldn’t remember them…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and constuctive criticism always welcome :)
> 
> Check out my other DA fics - Unwritten and Triangle.


	5. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran doesn't wake up dead. Now what?

“He’s still alive.” A woman’s voice said, close to his ear. “Bullet went right through.” Hands patted him down and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. “Says here his name is Soren Tabris. Bit stupid to have your wallet on you when you ambush someone isn’t it?” 

A man. “So? Let him bleed out and leave him here. He tried to kill us! By the looks of this, it was carefully planned, and the only person I can think of that would want to kill us is Loghain. We need to get to Orzammar and quickly.”

Zevran groaned. His eyelids felt as if weights were tied to them. His shoulder was on fire and his mouth dry. 

There was silence as the group regarded him. Then a foot poked him in the hip. “Wake up!” 

He forced his eyes open, the people before him swimming into focus. Shit. Why was he still alive? And why did he feel a bit relieved?

He groaned again as he tried to sit up. No one moved. They weren’t helping him but they weren’t currently trying to kill him either. As he managed to pull himself into a sitting position, his arm hanging uselessly at his side, he glanced around him. Bodies littered the ground and he rather suspected Raina and her crew had not survived the ambush. That was unfortunate. He hadn’t known them very well, but he felt… was it remorse? He had been so focused on dying, he hadn’t stopped to think the Wardens might be the ones to survive.

“Oh,” he said, “I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all as the case may be…” 

He looked up at the people staring down at him. The man, Alistair, was frowning, a disgruntled expression on his face. The female warden, Bella, glared at him with suspicion and a raised eyebrow. While Alistair was easily recognisable from the photograph Zevran had received, the photo Zevran had of the woman didn't do her justice. Her hair was a mass of dark curls, longer than the photo, pulled into a messy ponytail. She had smooth, tanned skin and dark brown, chocolate coloured eyes. She was more attractive in person than he had expected. 

He realised he was staring and shook himself. “Well, I see you haven’t killed me yet,” he said matter of factly. 

“I need answers first,” Bella snapped. “Soren was it?” She threw his wallet on the ground next to him. 

“Ah, interrogation, of course,” Zev replied, glancing at his fake ID card. “Let me save you some time. My real name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens, which clearly I have failed at. Sadly,” he added. “For me, more than for you.” 

“Antivan Crows?” Bella asked, frowning. 

The redhead piped up. “An order of assassins out of Antiva. Very powerful,” she said glancing at Zev, “and renowned for always getting the job done. Someone went to great expense to hire this man.”

Even in pain, Zev smirked. “Quite right,” he chuckled. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of the Crows out here. Back where I come from we’re rather… infamous.” He shrugged and hissed at the pain in his shoulder. His vision swam before him. 

“So who hired you?” she asked, ignoring his pain. 

“A rather taciturn fellow in Denerim,” he replied. “Loghain…” 

“Does that mean you’re loyal to him?” Bella asked suspiciously, her eyes narrowing in distrust. 

Zev was about to shrug again, but caught himself in time, saving himself another burst of pain in his shoulder. He shook his head. “I imagine his issues with you are the usual. You’re a threat of some sort, yes?” 

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Well clearly you’ve been watching the news,” he said sarcastically. He raised his hands, framing an imaginary headline. “Grey Warden’s betray the king!” He lowered his hands, frowning, and turned to Bella. “Except none of it is true, and now he sends assassins after us! Please, let’s just leave him here. We need to get to Orzammar.” 

Bella ignored Alistair’s objections and narrowed her eyes at the elf. “How much were you paid?” she asked him. 

Zev chuckled. “I wasn’t paid anything, although the Crows usually compensate me adequately once the job is done, but I can guarantee you that they were paid quite handsomely. Being an Antivan Crow isn’t for the ambitious,” he said. 

Bella raised an eyebrow. “Then you are one… why?” she asked. 

“Well, I didn’t have much of a choice,” Zev replied. “I was bought as a child. It’s not all bad though,” he smirked. “The Crows keep you well supplied with wine, women, men or whatever you fancy. The severance package is garbage though,” he joked. No one smiled. Wow. Tough crowd he thought to himself. He was usually much better at getting at least a smile from someone in these circumstances. 

“So… why are you telling me all this?” Bella said. “It’s unusually forthcoming for someone who just tried to kill us. Or is this some bad villain monologue?” 

Zev actually laughed, and then winced at the pain in his shoulder. “Why not? I wasn’t paid for silence.” 

“And if you’re not loyal to Loghain are you not at least loyal to the Crows?”

Zevran regarded the woman standing in front of him. While the other Warden clearly would rather have finished him off and moved on, she continued to speak to the elf, which meant she might consider a proposal. In a strange twist - perhaps it was the possibility of actually dying - he had decided he longer wished for that fate. 

“Loyalty, is an interesting concept,” he said, searching her face shrewdly for any indication she might accept what he had in mind. “If you’re done interrogating me, might I put forward a proposal?” 

Bella frowned. “Make it quick,” she said curtly. 

“Well, the thing is,” Zevran replied, “I clearly failed to kill you, and now my life is forfeit. Sadly that is how it works with the Crows. Failure is not an option.” He sighed. “The thing is…” he hesitated before forging ahead, “well the thing is I’ve realised I quite enjoy living. Quite obviously,” he continued, nodding towards Bella, “you are the sort to give the Crows pause, so why don’t you let me work for you instead?” 

Bella’s eyebrows rose up in shock, and Alistair spluttered next to her. The old woman, who still hadn’t uttered a word, frowned, but Zevran noticed the redhead suppress a smile. “Why would I want you with me?” the Warden exclaimed. “You just tried to kill me!”

Zev smiled. “Well, I’m skilled at many things. Fighting, stealth, hacking, picking locks…” he paused. “Alright, the last one isn’t my best skill, but I can also warn you if the Crows attempt something more sophisticated than my obviously ill-conceived plan.” 

Bella snorted and shook her head, and Zevran could see she was leaning towards just killing him and moving on. Turning on the charm, he winked at her and chuckled. “I also know a great many jokes, twelve massage techniques, six different card games - I’d be wonderful at parties, no?” 

Despite herself, Bella’s mouth twitched up at the corner and the redhead lifted her hand to hide a smile. The other Warden was standing with his arms folder angrily on his chest. 

“What do you want from us?” Bella asked him. “Nothing like this is ever free.” 

“Well, being allowed to live would be… nice,” Zevran replied, “and make me marginally more useful to you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Along the line, if you find you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Fair?”

“And wouldn’t you just finish the job later?” Alistair demanded. 

“Well, honestly,” Zevran said, “I’d rather take my chances with you. I’ve more than paid the Crows my worth, and even if I did try to kill you later, the Crows would probably kill me anyway for failing the first time.” 

“And I assume you’ll be as loyal to me as you were to the Crows?” Bella scoffed. 

Zev sat a little straighter, or at least as straight as he could without passing out from the pain in his shoulder. “I happen to be a very loyal person,” he said indignantly. “Up until the point that I’m expected to die for failing? I don’t consider that a fault.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless of course you expect the same thing, and then, well, I guess I don’t come very highly recommended.” 

All were silent as Bella stared at him, eyes narrowed and a frown on her face. Zevran tried to keep as straight a face as possible - he suspected this was not, in fact, the time for jokes. 

She sighed. “Fine, I accept.” 

“What!?” exclaimed Alistair. “Are you serious? We’re taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?”

Bella turned to the other Warden and muttered, “Alistair, we can use him.” 

He frowned and glared at Zevran who merely looked back impassively. He groaned. “Fine. I see your point. But if ever there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door,” he mumbled. 

The redhead smiled at him. “Welcome Zevran,” she said smiling. “I think having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan.” 

Zev grinned at her and turned on the charm, recognising in this woman someone who understood him. “I wasn’t aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers,” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes. “Or maybe not,” she groaned, but there was a smile in her voice and Zev chuckled. 

Bella reached out a hand to help him to his feet and he gasped in pain as he stood. Without being asked, and although he could see by her expression that she disapproved of him, the old woman stepped forward and placed her hands on him, chanting a spell. His shoulder immediately began to knit together, and the pain began to disappear. He thanked her and turned to the Warden. “I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you,” he said formally, “until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation, this I swear.”

Bella merely clenched her jaw and nodded, while Alistair rolled his eyes. “This doesn’t mean I like you or trust you,” she said to him tersely, “so watch yourself. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself though, and right now I need you. Don’t fuck up.” 

Zevran nodded. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I will need to get a few things from the car,” he said. “You’re welcome to observe me of course.” 

Bella nodded at the redhead, who accompanied him to the Yaris as he retrieved his bag containing his clothes and laptop. Glancing around he saw his gun lying on the ground and crouched down to retrieve it. He froze at the sound of weapons being pulled out. “If you wish me to assist you, I need to retrieve my weapon,” he said calmly, keeping his head down. “You don’t expect me to face, whatever it is we’re facing, with just my fists and charms, surely?” 

There was a pause, and the sound of guns being holstered. Zevran waited a beat, and then retrieved his gun. He checked the safety and made sure he had everything, then holstered the weapon. 

“You forgot your wallet,” Alistair sneered at him, nodding to the wallet lying on the ground.

Zevran laughed. “That’s no use to me now,” he said. “I’ve already told you that’s not my real name, and using it would only allow us to be tracked. Speaking of which,” he nodded towards the SUV, “you really need to ditch that as soon as possible.” 

“What? Why?” asked Alistair. 

Zevran rolled his eyes. “How do you think I found you?” he asked. “It was very easy to track you via traffic cams from Redcliffe based on the information I received. You need to change cars and stay under the radar if you’re looking to dodge Loghain and the Crows.” He gestured towards where Raina’s cars were parked. “You can probably use one of the vans we were in to get to Orzammar, but you won’t be able to keep it for long.” 

Bella clearly still didn’t trust him, but she could see the logic in his argument. Alistair grumbled but eventually muttered an agreement as they retrieved their gear from the SUV and walked to the van. 

Zevran looked around him. Bodies lay on the deserted stretch of road. He wondered how long it would take for them to be found - this wasn’t a road that was travelled often and if someone had talked, their last known destination was Redcliffe. He wasn’t too concerned about being traced; his DNA was in the system under yet another alias. Although he couldn’t rely on his connections with the Crows to keep his identity a secret for much longer, he'd cross that bridge later. He had just allied himself with wanted criminals after all. 

“Were they your friends?” the redhead asked? “I’m Leliana by the way.”

“Friends?” he replied, “No. A crew I hired to assist me.”

“But you feel regret.” It wasn’t a question.

He frowned. “I suppose. They didn’t expect to die.” 

She shook her head. “None of us do.” 

Zevran nodded but didn’t correct her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a combination of the actual dialogue and my own where it suited me for this chapter.
> 
> Comments, constructive criticism, suggestions - all welcome :)


End file.
